The Birth of the King of Knights

In the royal capital of East Anglia, within the council chamber of the royal palace, kings from allied nations were gathered, their faces filled with evident anxiety.

"It's been so many days already, hasn't King Arthur dealt with Vortigern yet?" One king couldn't help but ask Bedivere.

Bedivere shook his head.

"According to the news from Her Highness, our king is still in pursuit of White Dragon Vortigern."

The rest of the kings exchanged glances, collectively sighing.

Three days ago, Bedivere had told them about Vortigern's plan. At first, they found it hard to believe, thinking it was too unbelievable. So, Bedivere led them to the vicinity of Vortigern's domain, threw in a few Anglo-Saxon captives, and in front of everyone's eyes, these Anglo-Saxons first grimaced in pain, then their necks swelled unnaturally, their faces rapidly turned red, then purple, and in less than three minutes, they fell silent forever.

After examination, it was determined that they all died of suffocation.

Now, all the kings couldn't utter a word.

They had thought Vortigern's goal was merely to unite Britain, something intolerable but manageable. Even if necessary, they could surrender to save their kingdoms. After all, in this era, it wasn't uncommon.

But they never imagined his true aim was to obliterate almost all mortals in Britain!

It was pure madness!

The kings felt intense regret. If only they had known, they would have joined Uther in the North to overthrow Vortigern twenty years ago.

Fortunately, now there was Arthur, mightier even than Uther. Surely, with his power, he could defeat Vortigern.

The kings consoled themselves like that inwardly.

*BANG!*

The door suddenly burst open and a soldier scrambled in with a horrified expression.

"I-It's bad! Th-There's... a white dragon... flying towards us!"

White Dragon!

The kings were shaken, their eyes reflecting intense horror, all turning to Bedivere.

"Could it be..." Bedivere frowned slightly, rising and striding out.

The kings hurriedly followed him.

They climbed the royal palace's exterior, gazing into the distance. On the distant horizon, a white figure was flying towards them—a fierce dragon head, white scales, massive bone wings—unmistakably a white dragon!

"We're done..."

The kings looked ashen, despair evident in their eyes.

In their minds, Arthur must have been defeated by Vortigern, who was now coming to settle the score with them.

The thought of perishing under the dragon's breath overwhelmed many with sorrow.

Sorrow for themselves, for the kingdom, for the people of this vast land.

"Even if it means death, this king will die standing!" One of the kings gritted his teeth, turned around, and prepared to dispatch his soldiers.

The other kings exchanged glances, nodding to each other. Despite knowing the unmatched power of White Dragon Vortigern, they had no choice but to fight for their survival!

Because, in reality, they had no way out.

"Don't panic, everyone." Bedivere suddenly spoke up. "Maybe things haven't reached the worst point yet."

Every king's eye lit up, hope rekindling.

"Are you saying there's still a chance things might turn around?" One of the kings asked eagerly.

Bedivere remained silent.

He remembered the message from Princess Morgan, stating that Vortigern's dragon body was over a thousand meters long, even bigger than Queen Nidhogg's true form. However, upon his current estimation, the white dragon flying towards them was no more than fifty meters long.

This clearly had something to do with the king.

But to be sure, Bedivere contacted Lancelot, Lamorak, and the others, instructing them to prepare for battle.

Meanwhile, the panicked Vortigern, fleeing in haste, suddenly sensed numerous human auras in the city ahead.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to continue forward. But suddenly, he caught a familiar scent from behind.

'Wait a minute, only her? That man isn't here?'

A hint of hesitation flashed in Vortigern's eyes.

'If that man isn't around, maybe...'

'No, after so many self-destructive attempts, I'm very weak now. My immortality is almost gone, and this might be that man's plot!'

As he thought like that, Vortigern hesitated no more. Just as he was about to change direction, a burst of crimson feathers appeared in his vision.

*BOOM!*

The suppressed anger within him for the past three days suddenly erupted like a volcano, rushing to his mind. Vortigern's golden dragon eyes were instantly veiled with a layer of blood.

'Even without that man, I dare not hold back! What kind of god am I?!'

'She's just a mere mortal, what is there to fear?!'

'Let's start by taking his sister's life to compensate for the humiliation I've endured these days!'

Vortigern turned around, let out an angry roar towards Artoria, spread his wings, and dove forward. His icy claws aimed straight at her head.

"Hmph!"

A cold snort came from under the silver lion helmet. Artoria swung Excalibur forward, promptly severing Vortigern's dragon claws, causing golden blood to splash into the air.

*ROOOARRR—!!!*

The intense pain only fueled Vortigern's rage. He opened his huge mouth to bite down on Artoria, who instantly lifted her Rhongomyniad, shooting a burst of light beam that pierced through his dragon head.

Vortigern's eyes gradually dimmed, and his massive dragon body crashed to the ground, creating a colossal crater with dust and debris filling the air.

Soon, a white beam shot out from the depths of the smoke, soaring into the sky. However, Artoria seemed to have anticipated this, riding on Dun Stallion, she fearlessly dove down.

"Light, may you be released from the ends of the world! Split the heavens and tether the earth, anchor of the storm! Rhongomyniad!"

Rhongomyniad instantly erupted with endless brilliance. Storms and thunder transformed into torrents, effortlessly shattering the white beam and ruthlessly pinning it onto the recently resurrected Vortigern.

*BOOOM—!!!*

Vortigern's gaze dimmed once again, followed by a surge of new vitality.

The kings, leading their armies, watched as an unknown knight fiercely battled White Dragon Vortigern, their faces filled with astonishment.

"Unexpectedly... not King Arthur?"

"Who's that knight?!"

"Am I seeing right? That knight is beating the white dragon!"

Every king's gazes all converged on Bedivere.

Bedivere remained silent for a moment, then a meaningful smile appeared on his face.

"That figure is someone who inherited the will of the Chosen King—the King of Knights!"

The King of Knights.

Everyone was shaken, looking at each other in disbelief.

Tens of thousands of soldiers, witnessing the lone knight battling the white dragon, felt intense awe and gradually developed a fervent admiration.

Humans always have a yearning for strength, and soldiers have a crazy reverence for the powerful.

Traveling thousands of miles in battle, a sword once led a million soldiers; though a simple dream, it was the most intense desire in every knight's heart.

The knight clad in silver armor with a helmet that resembled a fierce lion was the living embodiment of their dream turned reality!

The battle persisted from noon until dusk, until the eighteenth time Artoria thrust Rhongomyniad into Vortigern's head, finally silencing him completely.

Standing on the white dragon's head, she turned to face the crowd. Her silver armor was stained with golden blood, the sunset casting a sacred hue on her body, desolate yet carrying an indescribable weight.

Every king turned away, unable to meet her gaze.

""King of Knights! King of Knights!""

""King of Knights! King of Knights!""

""King of Knights! King of Knights!""

The army of Camelot led the cheers, and as if infected, the rest soon joined in, tens of thousands of voices converging into a mighty roar, like a landslide! 

""King of Knights! King of Knights!""